The Salt of the Earth, 2014, is a profile of the prolific Brazilian photographer Sebastião Salgado, who has an uncanny skill of interacting with his subjects, particularly Indigenous peoples, civilians affected by wars and those in precarious living situations.

Surprisingly, Salgado started as an economist working in Europe, where he took up photography without training. It did not take long for him to plunge into photography full-time. His initial projects focused on remote Indigenous peoples in South America, then other parts of the world. Always on the move, next projects documented work around the world, and those extinguishing fires in Kuwait following the war there. He then relentlessly went to dark areas of the world, showing the human impact of the war in former Yugoslavia, famine in Ethiopia and war in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Understandably, those years seeing the absolute worst of humanity left him exhausted. He next turned to projects with a more environmental focus, capturing unspoiled areas from around the globe, which continues to be his main focus today.

More than most documentaries, the director, Wim Wenders, inserts himself directly into the narrative, incorporating himself into the story as he accompanies Salgado on a trip to Siberia to photograph wildlife there. Then there are sessions of Wenders and Salgado discussing his photography. 

One of the threads of the work of both Wenders and Salgado is the use of religious naming, including the title of this video as well as some of Salgado’s books – Genesis and Exodus. They do not discuss the use of these weighted titles in the documentary and the reasons for their choices. Obviously, they feel some affinity to the religion of their youth and see their efforts as a continuation, secular or somehow tied to faith, of ideals that inspired their lives. Unfortunately, the topic was never developed.

Salgado continues to work today into his 80s so this book is not a complete overview of his projects. Regardless, he has shown a remarkable drive and curiousity. He has gone to war zones, disaster zones and the furthest corners where people live off any beaten track. In all these environments, he has engaged his subjects and took their photos with their consent, even in the most inhumane of situations they were experiencing.

Of all the projects profiled, the one that struck me the most was the tens of thousands of manual workers in an improvised gold mine in Brazil. Using nothing but the most basic tools, these treasure hunters appear like ants in an open pit. The sheer number of mud covered people crowded together in nothing more than loincloths was arresting in its human drama.

​As is the case with Wim Wenders documentaries, they are homages to the subject. Certainly, it is warranted in this case but leaves aside critical questions needed for a deeper understanding of their work. Delving into those questions would have made the documentary more than it ended up being.  

Beginning in 2013, Sky Arts (British TV channel), began its Portrait Artist of the Year competition, followed in 2015 by Landscape Artist of the Year.

​Whereas previous reviews here have focused on documentaries of one established artist, the eight seasons of Portrait Artist of the Year and three seasons of Landscape Artist of the Year are reality TV shows that start with a public call for submissions and then feature a number of painting heats. Thousands enter, dozens are selected for the heats. The winners of the heats proceed to a semi-final and then finalists are chosen with a winner crowned and offered a very well-paying commission.

The competitors skew towards artists who have jobs other than their art to sustain themselves. They are talented, highly committed and have a strong voice that shines through their work. It is wonderful for them to get public profile. Given this is a reality TV show, there are ground rules that need to be accepted before being able to accept the experience. In my case, I had to get over my discomfort with a competition for artists on display for the world to see. Once accepted, I came to appreciate the opening seasons of both versions that I watched (hopefully more seasons to come over time).

Another item to accept is that the main driver shaping the competition is time. The heats are four hour timed sessions for contestants to create a work of art - short for most of them and a major source of stress.

Another factor is the three judges provide feedback to the heat winners and give them points to consider as they progress in the competition. The artists are usually open to change, but those changes are often subtle over the competition.

What is most fascinating is watching the development of the artworks in real time, in some cases with time lapse recordings of several hours. The artists are interviewed at various times during the four hours, but these usually deal with their insecurities and stress about the crunched timeline to produce quality work. While some can speak about their approach and interpretation they seek to bring, those are the minority of the interviews. The interviews and profiles of some of the artists at times feel like a distraction from their challenge to create a high quality work in four hours.

The originality of the show lies in showing side by side a multitude of personal artistic approaches - be it materials used, or how they come at the task at hand. The time lapse images of the development of their work is also compelling. Even the regular check-ins with the artists over the four hours of their work can be engaging - for the few who can speak effectively of how they are coming at the painting of the day and time constraint.

The overall fascination lies in watching hard-working artists who are not famous work as they develop side-by-side with others in a fishbowl environment. Watching many rather than one artist at work on the same model or landscape is a welcome twist on the artist documentary genre.

Kusama: Infinity is a heartbreaking story of perseverance and determination that follows Yayoi Kusama’s unbelievably difficult journey to the top of the art world. She faced crushing difficulties from the start of her life but there were just enough positive people to give her the chances she needed to sustain her career and achieve her ambition of being at the top of the art world.

To say her provincial Japanese bourgeois family opposed her art ambitions at the start of her life is an understatement. Added onto that was her childhood trauma, centred around her parents’ unhappy marriage where, as a young girl, her mother employed her to spy and witness her father’s infidelities. Nevertheless, she studied art and began to find her voice. While still in Japan, she even reached out to Georgia O’Keeffe by mail, and received advice and encouragement that led to her move to New York in 1957. Being a woman and Japanese were her next obstacles. She attained a measure of success in her 15 years in New York, but regularly saw men copy her ideas and innovations, then get the credit and recognition. This pushed her to depression and even a suicide attempt, but she had people who supported her to keep going. Eventually, she returned to Japan and checked herself into a psychiatric hospital - where they encouraged art therapy, allowing her to continue what is most important for her. She continues to live there until today, with her studio two blocks away. In the 1980s, a few gallery owners in the US and Japan began to notice her. In the 1990s, international fame arrived. By the 2010s, her exhibits were the most visited of any living artist. Now in her 90s, she continues to work every day. 

The themes of her work have been consistent since the 1950s but ever more refined. She was first noticed for her hypnotic net paintings - obsessive and at times huge paintings that resemble the pattern of fishing nets. Repetition, especially of dots and phalluses - sometimes dots on phalluses, has been a mainstay of her practice since her early days. 

In 1965, she created her first mirror room. The concept has continued to this day, with her Infinity Mirror Rooms drawing massive audience around the world. Another audience draw is her Obliteration Rooms. They are rooms where every corner and every object is white. Audience members are given a page of coloured dot stickers to put wherever they want - and they happily oblige.

The life drama of Kusama is the backbone of this documentary, and it is heartbreaking. It should not have to be this hard to have your talent recognized. Fortunately, she was not crushed by so many difficulties.

The movie’s weakness is the absence of creating a connection between her early works and the current famous ones - Infinity Mirror and Obliteration Rooms. There is little about where the idea for Obliteration Rooms came from and how it evolved. Given how central it is to her current fame and audience interest, a stronger explanation of the evolution of her work in the last decades is a disappointing gap.

The documentary ends on a note of relief as the fame she longed for has come to her. Kusama’s is a good news story and while not exactly a happy ending, seeing her continue to work with such determination into her 90s leaves viewers with a sense that her life has come to a good place now.

Andy Goldsworthy, a Scottish artist, mesmerizes with installations, sculptures and drawings in nature that incorporate rocks, stones, ice, leaves, branches, driftwood - to name a few. Watching this 2001 documentary, Rivers and Tides, ‘wow’ kept coming to mind as he creates art that would be easy enough for many to produce on their own.
This is one of the better artist documentaries because Goldsworthy speaks understandably and extensively about his work. His explanations illustrate his process - and you can understand what he is saying. One of the longer sections is about a country wall of stone he created at the Storm King Art Center in New York. It is a wall that incorporates his signature imagery, the wandering movement of a river. He wraps the wall around trees, as well as having it enter and exit a lake. It loses its standard straight line and enters a conversation with the trees and landscape in which it sits. Though a wall is meant to last, in his mind it remains ephemeral because it explicitly acknowledges that tree growth will eventually destroy it - much like the previous wall that had been present on the property.

The most impressive river flow imagery piece is from Nova Scotia where he attaches pieces of icicle to a rock by the ocean - then the sun appears in a fortunate way to light it up completely to make it glow. We get to share his surprise at the beauty of it when it happens.

Time is another major player in his work. He often creates on the seashore, completing his works just as the tide comes in - which then destroys them. Working in ice also acknowledges plays into the ephemeral nature of his work. Whether gone in a moment in the flow of a river or lasting longer because it is made of stone, his work is designed to disappear, something that sets his work apart.

His signature works are human sized pinecone shaped sculptures using stone, ice, wood - and probably other objects given the frequency he has made them. They are impressive because they stand on their own with nothing attaching the pieces together - and they can be fragile. One of the compelling moments is when he builds one of these cones from rocks on the seashore but it falls four times before he is able to get it to stand - all while the tide is coming in. It is rare to see an artist fail on camera, but this film captures two such episodes and his reaction of disappointment, making him that more human.

The wow moments come from the fact that anyone could do what he does. He has taken childhood play with stones, sticks and other objects from the natural world and continued the journey into art - without losing the childhood playfulness, and while remaining fully conscious of the meaning he brings to his work.

In 2005, 89 year-old Carmen Herrera had her breakthrough exhibit that led to art world stardom. Although recognition came late in life, she had been working at her art constantly since her 20s.

The 100 Years Show, released in the year of her 100th birthday in 2015 shows the still vibrant and productive artist - with a zest for life and no intention of stopping. In 2020, she celebrated her 105th birthday - her remarkable and remarkably long life continues.

The documentary shows her at work, going through her process of idea to sketch to proof of concept to full blown artwork. While still hands on, her assistant is there to help her complete her works, many of which are large scale.

Her abstract minimalist paintings have the power to make the viewer stop to contemplate their elegant simplicity. Her early works already demonstrate her talent. The further decades of work have strengthened her skills as she continues her daily search to create powerful art.

Her positive attitude to art and life are remarkable given the almost complete absence of opportunities and recognition for so many decades. She kept going. As she says, when you wait for the bus, the bus will eventually come. Certainly, there has been a lot pain in her waiting, including being told by a woman gallery owner in the 1950s that she would not show her work because Carmen was a woman. She has not forgotten, but she persisted.

This half hour documentary effectively shows Carmen Herrera at work in her home studio, her process and explanations of her life and art. Unfortunately, because of its shortness, it does not delve into the source of her inspiration and how she came to focus on line and colour. It may be a factor of her not being able to explain it well, rather hard to imagine given her ease explaining so much of her life to the camera. Certainly, enough is known of her early life and initial architectural studies to be able to map out where her artistic interests began and how they evolved.

There are few unequivocal feel good stories in life. This is definitely one. The doggedness of an artist continuing to produce while being ignored, and then attaining recognition in her ninth decade of life is a story hard to even imagine as being within the realm of realistic possibility. 

As a final exclamation point, she has gone through life with a smile and without bitterness. She deserves all the belated fame she has received.

Maya Lin leapt into the public eye as a 21 year-old architecture student who won the competition to design the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington in 1980. Maya Lin: A Clear Strong Vision follows the first ten years of her career beginning with this incredible project win over 1,000+ other submissions.

Her design is a feat that changed war memorials from glorification of state power and politicians to a solemn, personalized recognition of those who died. While I have never been to the Memorial, I have distinct images of people moved to tears just by going there, and in many cases, simply seeing and touching the name of a loved one or comrade with whom they served. 

She shifted the paradigm for war memorials by doing two things. First, she included the names of all those who died, which was a requirement of the competition, but she found a way to make every single name legible. Second, she changed the direction from vertical to horizontal,  a brilliant way to incorporate the required 50,000+ names. 

In my mind, I compare this memorial with the four war memorials within walking distance of where I live. They are all vertically-oriented, meant to inspire awe rather than personal connection. One of them actually includes the names of people who fought, but that wall is behind a fence, which means the public is not welcome to approach and touch. 

This paradigm shift is even more remarkable considering that the Vietnam War had ended in defeat and shame for the Americans a few short years before the competition and building of the memorial. Emotions ran incredibly high following the announcement of her winning design. Criticism went well beyond the design itself and became personal, including attacks on her gender and ethnic background. Her parents are Chinese immigrants. In the face of the controversy, she held her ground. She was pressured to compromise her design but she remained  steadfast. And she was right. This is confirmed towards the end of the movie, when she attended a Memorial Day service at the monument ten years after its inauguration. The veterans gave her a standing ovation following her remarks.

Following her meteoric entrance at the intersection of architecture, design and art, her career has never slowed. One of her next projects highlighted was a memorial to civil rights in Montgomery, Alabama - the birthplace of the Klu Klux Klan. As with the Vietnam Memorial, she created a design that invites the viewers to touch and approach, this time it is like a round table with key dates and names with water flowing over it. At its opening, everyone crowded by the edge and touched the writing, and I know I would want to do the same thing. Her public architecture is participatory, you are meant to approach and touch. That is an essential part of the process for the full emotional impact to be experienced.

Following that memorial, she designed a house, a museum, an outdoor reflection area in a park and a monument to women at Yale. I especially liked her work during a museum residency creating an installation of tons of crushed glass that ventures into visual art. 

The title really sums up the person - she has a strong, clear vision. To this day, her work remains fresh, simple, elegant and original. She has definite themes and interests without a sense of repetition. Extensive interviews where she explains her creative process round out the real time execution of some of her projects in the documentary that brings her process alive.

If she had only designed the Vietnam Memorial, that would have already been enough to be considered a great artist. Her continued production for now more than 40 years attests to a vibrant creative force that continues to burn strong. 

If there is one artist in the world who is identified with a medium, it’s Cai Guo-Qiang and gunpowder. Over the years, he has used it to draw (on canvas as well as in the sky), for performance as well as conceptual art. He’s even used it for pretty standard - if grandiose - fireworks shows.

Sky Ladder uses the story of him accomplishing a lifelong dream to create a sky ladder - inspired by a Christian tradition of a stairway to heaven (also a 1970s rock anthem). With that story working largely as the bookends, the movie explores his early life prior to and during the Cultural Revolution in China. His father had made their home a centre for artistic discussion as well as himself being a successful painter. Relatively early in his career, Cai moved to Japan and then further afield, especially now that he has become an international art star. 

The movie touches on themes such as the influence of traditional Chinese art on his work, his connection with his father and grandmother - both of whom were still alive if very frail at the time of filming, the ethics of working on projects sponsored by the Chinese government such as fireworks at the Beijing Olympics and 2014 APEC conference. Another interesting theme is how to keep your art fresh when the struggle to make it is over - he now has access to significant resources to carry out projects but seeks out obscure artists integrate to integrate their ideas and energy. Visiting one such obscure artist, he comments that ‘compulsive and sincere emotion that should exist in all art’ - in some way that sums up his quest, in some ways harder now that he can easily access financial investment in his artwork.

The highpoint of the movie is definitely the creation of his Sky Ladder at a Chinese fishing village near his family’s ancestral home. It is a thing of wonder and beauty to behold before for the few minutes of its life, stretching 500 metres into the sky just before dawn breaks. The long and quixotic journey to carry out his dream came true. He dedicated the work to his grandmother who would die a month later. Making the project even more challenging was the fact that he hid it from government authorities. The third attempt - England, the United States and then China - finally succeeded.

While the sky ladder theme holds the film together, the abundance of other themes left me wanting for more than soundbites. Although the arc of his career was drawn, I really wanted to hear him speak about his work more in-depth and explain what he has been trying to say through his gunpowder and other works. While there are many times he talks about his life, I really didn’t hear enough about his very original art.

Shepard Fairey rose to public fame and consciousness with his Obama ‘Hope’ poster leading up to the 2008 American presidential election. Obey Giant tells the story of Fairey’s road to fame and celebrity with the Obama poster being the tipping point.

A non-academically inclined high school student, he finally came into his own by studying art. Even at art school, subversion of political posters started in a big way by him posting the face of Andre the Giant over a mayoral candidate’s face on a billboard as part of a class assignment. 

Andre the Giant was certainly his main obsession and vehicle for many years, eventually he incorporated the words ‘Obey Giant’ into the imagery to become his artistic trademark. Behind this obsession was the anti-mainstream questioning of ownership of the public space - by government and corporations through advertising - or by other voices. Street art was not just a vandalism game for him. 

And so he went about his underground activities of posting decals based on Andre the Giant and postering. He came out from the street art underground with the Obama poster. Creating that poster was a conscious decision to take part in partisan politics rather than just railing against the 'system' and it redirected his career. He felt he could no longer stand on the sidelines and criticize. He needed to stand up for what he believed in. The poster was not commissioned, the Obama campaign never brought him on board and he let anyone use it - foregoing any financial benefit.

This career changing decision led him in directions that the documentary follows, and it continues to play out until the present. The portrait became iconic and hangs in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington. The documentary follows the upward and downward directions his career took. As a result of of his Obama portrait, he had his first major gallery show in Boston, where on opening night he was arrested because of some of the graffiti works he had been doing in the city while there. He was accused of damaging public property. A spirit-crushing legal journey lasted many months. Then the more complicated case came up with Associated Press suing him for using one of their pictures as the source for his Obama portrait, which had the potential to bankrupt him even though he never benefited financially. Again, months of legal hell ensued before AP finally dropping the case.

At this point of his career, his exploration of ownership of the public space evolved. He was now famous and generating significant revenue through his work. he was commissioned to paint murals. He became involved in partisan politics and progressive positions, especially in the Trump era. His aesthetic has evolved, with posters and murals that have taken his Obama look into something much more based on a design look, which was already an element of his work, but is now more present as part of the more polished look of his work.

Following the completion of this documentary, he has definitely chosen to move away from his counter-cultural vibe - he recently opened up an Obey Giant clothing store on the Champs Elysées in Paris. His work has become more beautiful than edgy.

Obey Giant’s strength is its exploration of the street art scene and its existential questioning of ownership of the public space. Given the superstar reality of Fairey today, it also covers his development and initial inspirations, which have continued into his current work. At a visceral level. the documentary delivers an understanding of the risks street artists take. Fairey describes his arrests, which have involved police violence but also included the refusal to give him access to his medication for type 1 diabetes - his health and even his life were at risk because of the arrests. So being a street artist had real and significant consequences for him, even leaving aside the court cases brought against him.

It is interesting to contrast Fairey’s career with Banksy’s, probably the world’s two best known street artists. Banksy has continued to stay outside and flaunt the artistic and political system - even while those systems try to take possession of his work. He has consistently kept his critiques at a meta level, certainly with regards to politics. Fairey chose to become involved in partisan politics and issues about which he is passionate. Both valid choices. But I feel that over the years, Fairey’s art has weakened. Audience taste now matters to him.